


Halcyon Days

by Shirali



Category: Tennis no Oujisama | Prince of Tennis
Genre: Drabble, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-11
Updated: 2016-01-11
Packaged: 2018-05-13 06:50:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 344
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5699014
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shirali/pseuds/Shirali
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Yukimura's favorite color is blue, but gold is magnificent as well.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Halcyon Days

Gold.

Was the color of the trophy they got when they won nationals. It was the pride in his heart, and the burning desire to feel this ecstasy again, to stand on that glorious stage once more as the best in Japan. Gold was the fire of determination in his eyes.

Gold.

Was the color of the jersey he wore on his back. Like royalty’s robe, some might say. But really it was the dreams of his team and himself that he bore like a weight on his shoulders.

Gold.

Was the color of the last sunset, before his body crumbled in pain. He was cast down from Olympus. He fell like Icarus. His once glorious pillars now white walls, the perfumes now disinfectant and chemicals that stung his nose. The hope now despair.

Gold.

Was the color of the sun when he was finally freed from the hospital walls. Never had he known a sight to be so beautiful. As if he’d been reborn, he returned to the mortal plane.

Gold.

Was the color of his eyes. The boy. The brat. The prince that stole his throne. Gold. Was the taste of defeat in his mouth, bitter and metallic. Sweetened with remembrance, nostalgia, the grip of childhood. That beautifully crafted lesson rekindling the embers of rapturous joy that had long gone cold.

Gold.

Was what kept him awake at night. The boy’s eyes always on his mind. The desire, that left him trembling, to feel that fire, for a rematch.

Gold.

Was hypnotic, magnetic, like a piece of tape on a cat’s paw, he just couldn’t let go.

Gold.

Was their first kiss. Their shirts soaked in sweat, their tongues continuing the battle of dominance that they had abandoned on the court. Their rackets clattered to the ground. It was a burst of flame, a supernova, like drinking the gods’ nectar.

Gold.

Was what greeted him when he was down. It was what he fell in to each night.

Gold.

Was what he wanted to wake up to each morning.

Gold was beautiful.


End file.
